the space between
by Cath1
Summary: What happens when Derek is the one whose world is falling apart? MerDer. S4ish.
1. beautiful day for an accident, let's say

Title: the space between

Disclaimer: Characters do not belong to me. Much to my immense dismay.

Notes: I'm fairly new to the Grey's Anatomy fandom, and haven't read all that much. An apology if this is a popular storyline; either way, I've not read any GA fic that has this plot so it's at least new to me! I've had this idea for a short while now, but only just was brave enough to go with it, so I hope you enjoy, as I plan to continue it. Set late series 4.

Title comes from song by Dave Matthews Band of the same title.

_The space between_

_The tears we cry_

_Is the laughter keeps us coming back for more_

Dave Matthews Band

The space between

XxX

_It's just a day like any other day_

_A beautiful day for an accident, let's say_

Zero 7

Waiting to die

XxX

Prologue: a beautiful day for an accident, let's say

XxX

Today is a good day.

There haven't been too many of those recently. But today? A good day.

Derek Shepherd is in his element: a complicated, risky, life-saving procedure that so far is going well. With any luck, he'll be able to publish this case, which will certain win him points with Richard. His adrenaline is pumping; it keeps him focused and attentive throughout the long surgery. If he'd thought about it, he'd realise that he hasn't eaten in at least 9 hours. And that had been a sandwich, handed to him by Rose, as he rushed down the hallways of Seattle Grace. But now, at this moment, hunger isn't a concern.

Meredith is stood beside him now, engrossed in the anatomy of the brain and the procedure he performs.

She stands a little too close for his liking. That is, she is stood in the same room as him.

Rose never seems to distract him the same way Meredith does. It's a problem. Since being more than a little preoccupied with thoughts of Meredith every time he's with Rose, and in fact, during _being with _Rose, he's been starting to consider the future of their relationship.

But that is something external to the OR. This, inside the OR, this is his sanctuary; his place of thoughts that neither considers the illustrious Dr. Grey, nor any other romantic attachment that might cause a distraction. In theory that is. In reality, with Meredith beside him, looking up at him with interest as he explains his current actions, his eyes accidentally meeting with hers (across an open cranium? No, that isn't the line) and drinking their fascination in, he finds himself a little too focussed on the wrong things. With a cough, he returns his focus to the patient.

A little over an hour later, he is closing up. And then, it is over. The patient is off to recovery, and he, grinning with the success and self-assuredness of a job well-done, is off to complete paperwork before heading home.

Derek exits the OR, takes off his surgical cap, moves his head side to side and rolls his shoulders in an attempt to ease the tension that has built.

Meredith follows him. Slightly uneasy; their current relationship is built on polite conversation and unsteady foundations. "I'll go check on Mrs. Hammond," she tells him.

He nods briefly. "Shouldn't you be headed home?" he asks. More the question of a concerned boss than a former lover.

She gives him a smile; nearly reminiscent of the smiles she used to give. "After I check on Mrs. Hammond," she replies, before turning round and walking away.

He watches her, almost unintentionally for a moment before managing to take his attention away and complete the chart in front of him.

And then, the adrenaline high of surgery starting to fade around him into the true weariness and hunger, he makes his way to his locker.

Showered and changed, it is time to go home. Finally.

He steps into the empty elevator, the doors beginning to close behind him. For once, despite any slight urgings for the contrary, it remains empty; no female shouting from behind him to hold the elevator.

It is as he exits the elevator that his cell phone rings.

"Nancy?" he asks, looking at the display. He looks at his watch. 11.12pm. Late. Immediate onset of panic. "Is everything okay?" He continues walking. Breathing on the other end of the phone; uneven. He stops, stands by the chairs. "Nancy?"

He listens for a moment. Nancy is crying, he is sure of it and yet it seems unlikely. A thought. "Is it Mom? Is Mom okay?"

"Mom…" she chokes out. "Mom's okay." There is a brief moment of silence, of words being sought out. And then, "Sarah…"

"Is she okay?" he questions urgently. "Do you need me to come back to New York? I can be there in a few hours."

He barely hears the reply. Just feels it. A punch to his stomach. The sounds of the hospital crowd around him unbearably before the pounding of blood pumping round his head and through his ears begins to drown it out.

And then, a complete lack of awareness of his surroundings. Chairs fade fuzzily as he attempts to sit down.

"Dr Shepherd? Derek?"

There's a sound he can barely make out that could be his name but he doesn't care. An arm grabbing at his, guiding him into the chair.

"Derek?"

Shaking his head, the only response he can manage. Head drops to hands. And then, silence. Nausea. And only four words that repeat through his head. Accident. Sarah is dead. Accident. Sarah is dead. Accident. Sarah is dead.

And two words spoken to someone he cannot recognise in this moment.

"My sister…"

XxX

End prologue


	2. fly me away

Fly me away on an aeroplane

High in the sky

_Goldfrapp_

_Fly me away_

Italics indicates flashback. Please note: some strong language later on.

XxX

He doesn't remember getting on the plane. And yet, somehow, he's thousands of feet above the ground headed somewhere that he hopes is New York.

There are about a dozen things that he can't remember in this moment.

Right now, none of them matter, but they float through his mind regardless in rare moments not occupied by the encompassing pain.

This is one such moment and worries torment him about how did he get to the airport; does he have luggage; does anyone know that he's coming to New York; did he tell Richard not to expect him at work for… God knows how long?

He knows that it's his brain's way of distracting him from reality and in those moments he's perfectly happy to be in denial.

And then… he sinks deep into pain. The initial numbness has subsided somewhat, leaving a deep ache in the back of his throat where tears threaten but he refuses to allow them. Not in public. Not with a screaming infant a couple of seats down and a woman who cannot settle to his right. "I don't like flying," she tells him, shifting in her seat, nervously chewing on fingernails, and nibbling on the goldfish crackers the airline has provided them by way of a meal.

If he concentrates enough on these details, there's less space in his head for the pain. There's less chance of an incredibly public emotional breakdown.

There's a plastic cup of scotch in front of him that he doesn't remember ordering. He drinks it in one gulp. The resulting burning at the back of his throat is satisfying and it takes away the edge of the pain. He knows that it's going to take a lot of effort not to give into this feeling over the next few days, weeks… months?

There's a moment of turbulence and the woman next to him grabs hold of the arm rests tightly; knuckles turning white. The infant bawls louder.

He can't find it within himself to even attempt to comfort her or pay any attention to the high pitched screams of the child; instead he's drawn into a memory that he hasn't thought of in years.

_He is nine years old and travelling on an airplane for the first time. He is fascinated by all aspects of air travel; asks everyone far more in depth questions than they could ever hope to answer. He has a window seat and gazes, rapt, at the landscape below. Sarah sits beside him, pointing out elements of the geography that she may or may not actually know._

_Most of his family have flown before. Kathleen grabs hold of the arm rests as they take off; their mother urges her to take deep breaths – that they are not really falling as they go through clouds, but she seems little convinced herself. _

_And then, the captain announces over the tannoy that they are likely to experience turbulence soon. He looks to Sarah; at almost three years older than him, she's not much more knowledgeable than him, but she shrugs. "It's nothing," she says with all the wisdom of a 12 year old. "Just pockets of air."_

_The airhostesses move further down the plane with offerings of a steak dinner. He's never tried airplane food and accepts his willingly._

_His entirely family served, the plane takes this moment to start moving up and down in small jerks that cause Kathleen's eyes to widen and hands to firmly reattach themselves to the armrests. Nancy and Maura are little better. His mother eyes her food warily before placing the foil covering back over._

_Sarah shrugs and eats her food. He follows suit. And when finished, she asks Kathleen if she's gonna eat her cake. Kathleen, now looking a little green, shakes her head. _

_One by one, Derek and Sarah eat the rest of their family's meals: the only two unaffected by the turbulence. _

"_That was fun," Sarah tells their family at the end of the flight. And since he does whatever Sarah does, Derek agrees wholeheartedly._

The captain interrupts his reverie. "Ladies and Gentlemen, we will shortly be arriving at Newark airport. Local time is 16:05."

The captain continues on, but Derek is no longer listening. 4pm: 1pm Seattle time. Where has the time gone? The woman sitting next to him breathes nasally, almost hyperventilating as they descend. He cannot bring himself to care.

Half an hour later he has collected luggage he doesn't remember packing and hailed a cab.

He rides past buildings he has not seen since his move to Seattle. Roads that hold memories, both good and bad.

40 minutes later he arrives at his Mom's house; the home of his youth. He closes his eyes and takes a breath before exiting the cab. He can handle this. He has to.

Their street is one of large houses and generous lots. His mom's house is set back from the road; a brick and slatted house with a matching 2-car garage to the right hand side. There are two cars in the driveway, both reasonably new. He doesn't know who they belong to; this is the first time he's been back to New York since leaving and things have changed.

After paying the cab driver, he grabs his bags from the side walk, heaves one over his back and carries the other in his hand and walks slowly up to the front porch.

He hesitates a moment before ringing the doorbell. He's not sure what he's going to find on the other side and experience tells him that seeing his family's reaction will make things more real.

His mother opens the door. Outwardly, she is the same as ever: well-presented, stylish clothing, immaculate hair and makeup. But her eyes, her beautiful dark eyes, are tinged with red and immediately well up when she sees him standing in front of her.

"Derek," she says; her voice catching as she reaches the second syllable. She is well into her sixties, and yet, until this moment, has never appeared anywhere near her age.

"Mom," he replies, unable to say more.

She opens her arms wide and embraces him. "I'm glad you're here," she tells him in a voice tinged with sadness. "I've missed you, darling."

"I've missed you too, Mom," he says. He feels the back of his throat ache painfully, the tears threaten to fall, and this time, just this once, he allows them. He holds his mother tightly, and they stand like that in silence, each feeling their deep loss, for several minutes.

And then, he takes a breath, wipes his eyes, and pulls back, giving his mother a brief kiss on the cheek.

She stands back, holding the door, allowing him to enter the house. He puts his bags down in the hallway, and briefly takes in the room. It hasn't changed since he was last at home and he finds this reassuring.

"Gramma?" the voice comes from the vicinity of the kitchen doorway and he sees a young girl there of about 9 years old.

"Grace, you remember Uncle Derek?"

His niece – so much older than he remembers – nods her head cautiously. "Livvy's hungry," she says eventually.

Grace and Olivia – two of his nine nieces; Sarah's daughters. God, he can't begin to understand what they must be going through. He wasn't much older when he lost his father; a man who loved all his children, but his father was a man who was busy working and away from home much of the time making sure he could provide for all five of them. His father was an ambitious man who ensured that all of his children retained his values of good grades, hard work, and a belief in excelling in whatever (exceptional) career path they chose. Not like Sarah, who just wanted her children to be happy.

Sarah was the least like him and the most like her mother, and his father loved her all the more for it.

_He and Sarah are sat in the kitchen, finishing off homework, when their father returns home from a work trip to France. _

"_Derek, I hear you were selected to play saxophone in the orchestra?" his father asks as he enters the room. _

_He nods proudly. Playing in the orchestra is a high honour, especially when he's not been playing as long as some of those who weren't selected._

"_Well done, son. When are you playing?" his father enquires._

"_Summer concert is in July," he responds. He looks up from his math and wonders if his father will attend._

"_And Sarah," his tone changes, "I understand you got a B in your science test." Their father's eyebrows are raised, his face disappointed._

_Sarah shrugs. She doesn't seem to seek his approval like the others. "I want to be a writer," she tells him. "Or maybe an English teacher. Either way, science isn't so important." She raises her head, giving a defiant look, and Derek is puzzled to see that his father struggles against a smile. None of the others could get away with a B in science, or talking to their father like that._

"_Then I hope that your English grades are highest in the class," he replies eventually._

"_Of course," she tells him, before returning to concentrate on her work. _

_When their father turns to leave, Derek can see more than a hint of a smile on his face._

He follows his niece into the kitchen and finds it little changed since the last he saw it. The kitchen itself is divided into two parts, separated by an island with four chairs against it, where they would both prepare and eat food. Cupboards adorn nearly half the kitchen; on the other half, a table and six chairs where they would eat most of their meals together. When their father was around, they'd always eat in the dining room.

Olivia – Livvy – sits at the island counter. He hasn't seen her in a while and is immediately struck by the fact that she is a perfect replica of Sarah as a child. He feels almost as though he has been transported back in time. Her curly dark hair cascades past her face in the same disarray as Sarah's. The look on her face – almost suspicious, questioning – is the same expression he's seen on Sarah's face on many occasions. He cannot keep his eyes off her. Grace walks over to her, places her hand on Livvy's arm, protectively.

"Livvy wants a peanut butter and jelly sandwich," Grace tells them.

At the age of 6, Derek is sure that Olivia should be able to make these requests herself, but a shake of the head from his mother informs him otherwise. "She's not spoken since…" she starts quietly, but doesn't continue. "Would you like one, too?" his mother asks Grace.

"I'd like peanut butter with banana, please."

His mother locates the appropriate items and motions to Grace to help her make the sandwiches. Grace obliges.

Derek stands there, currently unable to say or do much that would be of assistance. Instead, he takes a seat next to Livvy.

"When's dad getting back?" Grace asks as she passes Livvy a plate with her sandwich and an apple as provided by her grandma.

"I don't know, sweetheart. He has… things to do," Derek can see his mother shaking slightly; almost unnoticeably trying to control her emotions as she attempts to focus on brushing crumbs off the counter. They fall into her hand and she continues to wipe her hand across the counter, brushing nothingness into her palm. Eventually, emotions checked, she deposits the crumbs in the sink and turns back towards her granddaughters. "Does Joseph want anything to eat?" she asks.

Grace stands still. Trembling with unshed tears as she considers where her father might be, her face getting redder. "I want dad," she says. She shakes her head. "I want my mom." Tears start to fall, rolling slowly down her face. "I want my mommy," she whispers, before sobbing uncontrollably. Livvy stares at her peanut butter and jelly sandwich in silence. His mom gathers them both up in an embrace.

"I know sweetheart. I know. I want her too."

He has to look away from the scene. He cannot fix this; God, how he wants to fix this, make it all right again. But his sister, their mom, his mother's daughter, is not coming back home again, and he doesn't know what to do about that.

Instead he exits, ostensibly with the objective of finding if Joe wants anything to eat.

He wanders the halls of the house, taking deep breaths to control his emotions. He looks in the various rooms, not knowing where his nephew is hiding out. Eventually, he finds Joe in Kathleen's old room.

His nephew sits playing on the Xbox, shooting at the many enemies, cursing when he suffers defeat. The scene seems out of place in his sisters' old room; a shrine to her many equestrian accomplishments in all it's pink, frilly and flowery glory.

"Uncle Derek, hi," the fifteen year old greets him before he returns his concentration to the game. Derek knows little of video games and so sits on the bed and watches as Joe attempts to annihilate the opposition in his war.

There is silence for a while, before Joe makes occasional comments about his tactics that Derek doesn't understand. Eventually the game comes to an end, Joe defeated again.

"Did you want anything to eat?" Derek starts.

Joe shrugs.

"Your sisters had peanut butter sandwiches. I could make you one if you wanted. Or I could see what else Mom has in?" Derek offers.

Joe shrugs again. The TV blares out the video game music on constant repeat. Joe hits the mute button on the remote.

"It was a fuckin' drunk driver," he says after a while. Derek would normally comment on his use of language, but he can't object this time. Instead he allows Joe to speak. "She was driving back from some event with the magazine, promised to get back early since she wanted to take us out wherever we wanted the next morning, and so doesn't drink at all. And then some bastard drives into her car 'cause he couldn't stop himself from drinking half a fucking bottle of vodka before he gets in his car." He looks up at his uncle, unshed tears in his eyes, anger radiating from every pore of his body. "What sort of fuckin' moron thinks it's okay to drink half a bottle of vodka before driving? Fuckin' bastard's gonna be okay. My mom gets taken to hospital and never makes it out and my kid sisters get to sit at the hospital for hours." He slams his hand against the wood of the bed, causing Derek to jump. Joe says nothing about the pain he must be feeling in his hand.

Derek places one hand on Joe's back in a comforting gesture, not sure if a 15 year old would accept a hug. But, that gesture made, he can't help but embrace his nephew. Joe doesn't fight against him.

They stay like that a while, each trying to come to terms with their pain. It's only the sound of the door opening downstairs that causes them to eventually move.

"Dad's back," Joe comments, pulling away and making a slow start to exit the room.

Derek wants to tell him that everything will be okay, but he knows it would be an empty promise.

He sits in the room a while on his own, wanting to give the family space, wanting to be able to be strong for them, needing some time to think. His cell phone ringing disrupts his thoughts.

He answers blindly.

"Hello?"

"Hi, it's me. It's Meredith," the person on the other end qualifies.

There's a moment of silent confusion as he attempts to bring himself into the present and yet cannot understand why she of all people would be calling.

"Meredith?" he asks after a while, his voice raw.

As she starts to ramble he realises that she finds it hard to know what to say. He realises that they haven't really spoken in a long time.

"I just… I… I wanted to check that you got there okay. I mean, you…you were kind of out of it and at the airport I had to get you on the right plane. So guess I just wanted to make sure that you were… well, that you found a cab and got to your mom's okay."

Distractedly, he replies. "I, uh, yeah, I got here okay." He rubs a hand over his face, struggling to know how to respond.

"Okay. Well… good. I guess I should try and get back to work then."

There's a moment of silence and he finally thinks of something to say. "Meredith? Thanks… for getting me on the right plane."

"Yeah. Well. I hope… If you need anything, you can call. If you want."

He nods, even though she can't see it. "Thanks."

They hang up and he's left sitting in his sister's old room, surrounded by fluffy animals, wondering what the hell just happened. But in this moment, he can't process it.

It takes him a moment more to rouse himself from the room and make it downstairs.

He finds the family in the kitchen. Bill, his brother in law, sits at the table, his Armani suit rumpled, unshaven face aged by years, Grace clinging to him.

It is this change that almost shocks him most. His brother in law – a partner in a prestigious law firm, the most impeccably dressed and well presented man, self-assured nearly to the point of arrogance – sitting in his mother's kitchen in disarray.

"Bill," he comments by way of greeting. His brother-in-law barely looks at him.

"I need a drink," he says. "God, I need a drink."

And Derek can do nothing but oblige.

XxX

_He's running home from school; the large saxophone case in his hand bangs repeatedly against his leg, and he struggles against its weight, but the flute and clarinet really aren't cool, so he's just going to have to deal with it._

_His dad has been in the hospital a few days now and he wants to know how he is and maybe later Kathleen will drive them to the hospital so he can tell his dad the great news about his saxophone solo in the summer concert._

_He runs up to the house, opens the door with his key, shouts out to his sister. "Hey, Kathleen, I'm home. Can we go to the hospital? I gotta tell dad something."_

_It's Sarah who enters the hall first. She looks at her younger brother with red-tinged eyes, slumped shoulders, her whole body radiating her distress._

"_What's going on?" he asks. She shakes her head, not able to bring herself to tell him. "Sarah, what's going on? Sarah?" She approaches him, looking at him with pity and sadness._

_He's never seen Sarah like this. He's her annoying little brother, and she only ever looks at him with enmity, rolling her eyes at him, making fun of him, hitting him._

"_Sarah, what's going on?"_

"_It's dad," she starts, and she doesn't have to continue because he knows exactly what she's going to say. "He's… Dad's… he's gone."_

_He doesn't object when she hugs him tight, so tight that he can barely breathe. _

_And then, there's just the two of them and silence._

XxX


End file.
